


The Words Remain Unspoken

by Beryl_Loamsdown



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: After the Winds of Winter, Desperately waiting for Season 7, I am taking an exam a few days later, I don't know whether I can finish this, M/M, Wish me good luck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 18:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7398223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beryl_Loamsdown/pseuds/Beryl_Loamsdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ser Davos found something in the Winterfell library.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Davos found something in the Winterfell library.

Ser Davos was in Winterfell library, reading. He stayed here a lot since the Red Woman left. He couldn’t bear the thought of his beloved little princess dying in such a horrible, grievously painful way, so he came here to read. He read a lot. He studied hard and read as much as he could. This was the only way he can commemorate Shireen.

He made a doe the night the Red Woman left. He promised his little princess to make a doe to accompany the stag before he left her. He sculptured the doe in tears. He would never forgive himself for leaving her that day. He put the doe and the burned stag on the desk which he believed once belonged to the former Maester. Since there was no Maester in Winterfell for now, nearly nobody would come here, so he asked Lady Sansa and the King if he could keep this place as his study.

He closed _The Dance of Dragons_ gently, stretched his arms, then stood up from the desk and began to wander aimlessly through these tall bookshelves. Old medicine cabinets set against the wall and several piles of disorderly parchments scattered over the room. The more deep he went, the books on the shelves looked larger and heavier, and —

He stopped by one of the bookshelves. Between two packs of books which people wouldn't even want to touch considering their size and title, there was a wooden box.

He took that box down the shelf, and opened it carefully. Rolls and rolls of letters orderly arranged within the box. Compared to the untidiness of the library, this even looked suspicious. The sealing wax were still unbroken, clearly nobody had read them yet. But the pattern on the wax was a direwolf. The sigil of House Stark.

Did somebody write them in Winterfell but didn't send them, or did someone in Winterfell received these letters but didn't open them?

Ser Davos narrowed his eyebrows. He closed the box and went straight to the only place he should go.

 

Jon was doing some paperwork in his room. He insisted on giving the lord's chamber to Sansa, so Sansa insisted that he take Robb's room instead of his original small one. Sansa wouldn't know how painful it was for him to live—even just to stay—in this place. The very room that once belonged to someone he loved. He was not saying that Sansa wouldn't feel pain and sorrow when she stood in the chamber once belonged to her parents, he loved Father so much that he couldn’t bear thinking what Boltons did in that room as well, but still, the pain Sansa felt of losing her family and the pain he felt of losing _Robb_ were different.

Far different.

He remembered the first night he spent with Robb in this very room. That day, after Father and Lady Catelyn both went to bed, Robb sneaked into his room to ask him if he was cold. It was before Arya was born, and Sansa was just a toddler who slept in a crib with Lady Catelyn and Father in the lord's chamber. Sometimes even Robb would sneak into his parent's room to sleep with them. Jon never did, he never got the chance. He never dared to do such thing.

Sometimes he felt so lonely. Even he had Father's kindness and Robb’s closeness during the day, when the nights came, he felt so lonely lying alone on his cold mattress.

That day, Maester Luwin told them the story of Torrhen Stark. The North used to have a king, Maester Luwin told them, until Targaryens came along with their dragons. Robb didn’t like the idea of the King in the North bending his knees to Targaryens, but he could understand why King Torrhen did that. Both of them did. Maester Luwin smiled benevolently when they left the king stuff behind and discussed excitedly about what those dragons may look like.

He was thinking about dragons and Targaryens when Robb sneaked into his room, asking him if he was cold. Jon wasn't cold. Father made sure that everyone was warm enough. But before he could answer, Robb approached him and pulled him up from his bed, 'Come!' he said, "My room is warmer!' He then grabbed Jon’s hand with a radiant smile, and holding it all the way back to his room. They huddled together under the blanket, chattering happily about how it would feel to ride a flying dragon until they dozed off.

Robb's room was warmer indeed, but Jon didn't know that the reason was neither the thicker mattress nor the bigger fireplace. He knew the real reason a few years later, when he grew older and knew better.

He had never told anyone. He knew Robb always loved him, Robb used to tell him that straight forward when they were still children. Father always wore a faint smile when he heard them, and the Lord of Winterfell would stop his wife from whatever she was going to say.

Robb still did that when they became teens, just not so frequently, and only said those words when they were alone. So many times Jon wanted to ask him what kind of love he was talking about, the love between family members, as brothers, or......

But he never did. He never dared. And now he lost his chance forever. He lost Robb _forever_.

These days he had been haunted by nightmares and by other horrors which were even worse than those nightmares during the day.

His death.

He didn’t have much time to think about his death considering the day after Melisandre brought him back to life he reunited with Sansa, and soon had a battle to fight. But now, he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting to it anymore. And sitting in a room which belonged to the dead certainly didn’t help.

He died once, stabbed by his sworn brothers.

And there was nothing after his death, nothing.

No Father, no Lord Mormont, no Pypar, no Grenn.

No Ygritte.

No Robb.

Nothing.

He shook his head, trying to concentrate on whatever he was doing when someone knocked his door.

“Come in.”

“Your Grace,” Ser Davos walked into the room, “I have something to show you.”

“Please don't call me that. There’s nobody else here.”

“But —”

“It makes me uncomfortable, so just do me a favour.” Jon said frustratedly.

“... As you wish, my Lord.” Ser Davos nodded in comprehension. “I found this in the library. I think you may want to take a look.” He handed that wooden box to Jon.

Jon opened the box curiously, and when he saw what's in there, his eyes widen.

“They are all still well sealed, I think Boltons overlooked it. Say that the library being untidy is really an understatement.” Ser Davos said as he watching the King picked one of the rolls.

Jon picked the top one on the right and carefully unfolded it.

 

 

> _Jon,_
> 
> _A man tried to kill Bran yesterday. Mother fought with him and Bran’s direwolf tore the man’s throat. Bran was unharmed. I cannot fathom why on earth anyone would want to harm our little brother, let alone to kill him._
> 
> _Mother is going to King's Landing to inform Father of this. The dagger which the assassin used was made of Valyrian steel. Mother thinks it must has something to do with the Lannisters. She also thinks Bran didn't fall by accident but was pushed by someone for a reason. Things are getting complicated. Once Mother set off, I'll actually become the Lord of Winterfell. I am worried about everything, and I am scared. I don’t want to admit it, but I truly am. I wish you were here by my side._
> 
>  

Jon stared at the parchment, rigid with shock.

“‘s there anything wrong, my Lord?” Ser Davos asked in concern.

Jon nearly jumped out of his skin. He totally forgot Ser Davos was still standing right in front of him.

“No! I......I need to read these letters, these are... _important_.” He bit his bottom lip trying to suppress his growing emotions. “Thank you for bringing them to me, and would you tell Sansa and the Lords and Ladies that please feel free to eat without me? I don't want any disturbance today.”

“Of course, my Lord. Are you really alright?” Ser Davos’ eyes shifted between Jon and the letter he hold.

“Yes, I......I just want......I need to......” Jon shut his mouth to stop himself from keeping stuttering and inhaled deeply. “Yes, I am alright. Thank you.”

Ser Davos apparently didn't believe him, but he inclined his head and left the room.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might change the title. I don't even know how to finish this with my poor ability of English... Anyway, I would give it a try if there's anyone want to read this story.  
> Oh, and I just created my Instagram account week ago, I desperately want more friends! xx  
> https://www.instagram.com/berylloamsdown/


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He really should be sleeping right now, yet he was writing a letter.

  

Robb threw the quill back into the ink bottle and leaned back in his chair.

It was long past midnight. Rickon was still like a winter storm these days, weeping and angry by turns. The youngest boy was so upset with Robb that he kept screaming and kicking and crying almost every day. It took Robb nearly an hour to coax him to sleep tonight. He was exhausted, and countless works were still waiting for him in the upcoming morrow. He really should get some rest, he knew he should. Yet he was sitting in front of his desk, staring at the parchment. The ink on it had already gone dry for a while. He sighed, rolled the letter up, and sealed it with wax just as the same as he did every time before.

He still had no idea why he was doing this. At first, he thought it was because Bran was unconscious and he had no one to talk to; after Bran regained consciousness, he thought it was because Bran was too small to know too many things, so he still had no one to talk to. But in fact, he could talk to the Maester, or Theon. Theon may be frivolous, but they were friends. It occurred to him that Theon had been helping him since the day his mother left. He felt a little guilty that he rather write to Jon, write the letters which he didn't even plan to send, than talking to the ones by his side. But he just didn't feel like to talking to anyone other than Jon.

He knew clearly that Jon had made his own decision. He understood and respected it with whole his heart. But no matter how hard he tried, the day they parted still replayed again and again in his head. The air, the noise, the crowd. Jon's curly black hair, Jon's voice, Jon's smile.

And their last embrace.

He didn't want to let him go. They had been together ever since he could remember. He didn't want Jon to leave him alone.

He wanted to take back that farewell. He wanted to talk Jon into changing his mind. He was willing to do anything, as long as it can make Jon stay. He even considered telling Jon that he could make him the captain of guards, or......or whatever position he liked. Jon only needed to ask.

But it was a selfish thought. He knew exactly why Jon wanted to leave Winterfell. So long as his mother's hatred for Jon lasted, his father would not ask King Robert to legitimize Jon as a Stark. If Jon stayed here, he would have to live as a bastard all his life. The Wall, on the contrary, was a place that no one cared who you are and what you are, the only thing they took account was what you can do. Everyone in the Night's Watch could get themselves a new status as long as they were qualified enough. Jon knew it, Father knew it, uncle Benjen knew it, so did he. How could he......what could he say? He was the heir of Winterfell, the next Warden of the North, and Jon was his father's bastard. How could he put this without hurting Jon?

From time to time, he wondered if Jon had ever hated him. He supposed it’s an understandable reaction. Why not? He was not better than Jon at anything, all the advantages he had were because he had a lady mother and Jon didn’t. People bowed to him because he was a true born son of their lord, and they mocked Jon because his last name was Snow. And Mother. He knew his mother had never once loved his half-blood brother. He could understand the hardness for his mother, but Jon was innocent. If she must blame someone, Father should be the one to blame, not Jon. Or she could blame the war, the King, whatever. Jon was innocent.

He could hardly conceive how it feel to be a motherless child, and what was worse was that, it was  **his** mother being the one who made Jon’s life more pathetic. He knew Jon lied to him nearly every time he asked him how his mother treated him. And the more lies Jon told him, the guiltier he felt.

All these years he kept telling Jon his feeling, he wanted to make Jon know he belonged to this family as much as he, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon. But the closest thing Jon had ever said to him was "yes, yes, I love you too, brother", and Jon always averted his eyes when saying it. He never knew whether Jon meant it seriously or not.

 _I should ask him_ , Robb thought bitterly. _I shouldn’t let him leave like that_.

It made no difference to the matter now. Jon was gone. He could regret it as much and as long as he liked, but there's no way back.

He picked the roll up from his desk, and gently put it into a drawer before locking it up. He blew out the candle, and went to bed with all the fatigue.

_I can go to Castle Black, to visit Jon._

He thought silently on the bed with Grey Wind snuggling against him.

_When all these are done, when Father, Mother, Sansa, Arya all back home, I can go to Castle Black to visit Jon. Bran and Arya will beg me to take them along. They must have missed Jon very much, just like I do._

He stared at the ceiling with his sore eyes, but all he could see was darkness.

_And I shall need no more letters,_

He put his arm over his eyes. Grey Wind lifted his head and gave a small cry.

_I will be able to tell him everything by then._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Last time I saw him, he was in the courtyard at Winterfell.  
> He said, "Next time I see you, you'll be all in black."  
> I was jealous of Robb my whole life.  
> The way my father looked at him, I wanted that.  
> He was better than me at everything - fighting and hunting and riding and girls.  
> Gods, the girls loved him.  
> I wanted to hate him, but I never could."
> 
> Every time I watch this episode, I can't help but think about how Robb felt during all those years he spent with Jon.  
> Sorry about this short chapter, I tried very hard to express it, but it's still far from my original intention :(  
> Thank you so much for all the kind words and kudos! You guys are great <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon unrolled another letter.

 

Ser Davos’ footsteps faded out, and Jon's hands were shaking.

He stroked the parchment with his thumb, breath caught in his throat.

Why did Robb write this? Why to him, not Father? Was Robb so lonely and desperate just like him was when he first arrived the Wall? Why didn't he send this letter? Were these letters all to him?

He put the parchment down with unsteady breath, and unrolled another one.

 

 

> _Jon,_  
>  _Tyrion Lannister was here, and he offered Bran some help. To be honest, it was a great deal. He designed something that can let Bran ride again. I felt bad for being unfriendly to him. I am so impetuous just like usual. I was so used to have you drawn my rein and I yours, we’ve always looked after each other. I should’ve been more cautious with my words and deeds now you’re gone, and I hope your impetuousness won't cost you too much on the Wall._

Well, it cost a lot, Jon thought with a sad smile. He remembered his fight with Grenn and Pyp. He was too naive and arrogant to notice the truth which Tyrion Lannister told him, that most of people in Castle Black had never been trained. They could hardly held a sword, let alone swing one to defend themselves or attack others. Grenn was just a farm boy and Pyp was merely a singer, but in the end, they fought as hard just as any other defending the Wall and the Castle. They died as warriors. 

He also remembered how pissed off he was when he was assigned as a steward instead of a ranger. It was Sam who talked sense into him. Lord Commander Mormont chose him to be his personal steward, yet he was too blind to see what the gesture meant. All he wanted was being a ranger, he never considered to lead. He never considered that he COULD be the one to lead. Robb was the one who had those 'How To Be A Lord' lessons. Father let Robb attend meetings with other lords since Robb was 11, and took the lordling by his side when he made judgments or gave orders about all sorts of errands. Father also taught Robb the courtesy a Lord should have, and how to act decently under any circumstances. Maester Luwin gave Robb lectures about the history of the Seven Kingdom, especially the North and the First Men. He taught him how to write properly at same time. Jon could attend the lessons whenever he liked, but Robb had to show up every single one. Robb had to read whatever the Maester told him to as well, books about history of course, and books about the art of war, and leadership, and......well, put it simply, books about whatever the Maester and Father thought a Lord must learn. 

_“I'd rather Father teach me this than read THESE BOOKS by my own. Didn't Father fight battles and win? Didn't he lead in the war?”_

Jon remembered once Robb lying prone on his bed, books scattered around him when he turned over and complained to Jon with his pouty lips.

_“Have you read this one, Jon? I bet even Bran could write better than it.”_

_“Stop grousing, you have to finish that one before tomorrow afternoon. And here I am doing YOUR work.” Jon scolded his brother absent-mindedly. He was writing a review of one of the books he finished, so that Robb could just COPY it and hand it to the Maester._

_“You’re the best.” Robb smiled and jumped out of bed to approach him, “How do I live without you?”_

_“You can’t.” Jon raised one of his eyebrows, gave Robb an amused look, “You will be choked with these books.”_

_Robb laughed brightly. He inclined his body to put his arms around Jon’s shoulder, “Then you must help prevent the tragedy from happening, my brother.” he said in a fake-serious attitude, and his breath gently brushed Jon’s ear._

_“Yeah, I am working on it.” Jon mumbled. The sound of his beating heart was so loud that no other sound was audible._

If Jon wasn't so busying restraining his pounding heart and the flush in his body, he would notice the subtle sorrow in Robb’s words. He would notice how tight Robb held him, and how much Robb wanted him to understand that he was needed by his closest brother and friend, if not by all of the Stark family.

  
Speaking of Tyrion Lannister, Jon frowned as he thought, that Lannister was rather special. What Tyrion told him was all true and wise, kind even. That man also saved him from Grenn, Pyp and Rast, and brought him the message of Bran's waking. He didn't know Tyrion Lannister had offered help to Bran, though. How was he now? Jon wondered. He had heard the news about Tyrion killed his father, Lord Tywin, and disappeared from King’s Landing since then. Some said he had fled to Essos, some said he was still hiding in Westeros, waiting for a chance to take the throne, while some said he was dead.

Nonetheless, Robb's hostility to Tyrion Lannister was quite understandable, considering he just found out that the Lannisters may be the cause of Bran's falling. He imagined what Robb may did or say to Tyrion Lannister. Sat in the Great Hall with Grey Wind and Bran by his side, and told Tyrion Lannister that he was not welcomed directly to the little man's face? Jon smiled unconsciously while picturing the face of Robb trying hard to stay harsh and behave as if everything was in his control. He must felt quite uneasy when Tyrion Lannister exposed his intention of helping Bran, but Jon was sure that Robb wouldn't let his expression show his clutter mind. Robb would do his best to act like a proper lord even he hadn't learned enough from Father.

 _No. Robb WAS the Lord of Winterfell._ Jon corrected himself silently. Robb was supposed to temporarily assuming the duties and authority of the Lord of Winterfell when Father was away in King's Landing, but Father didn't ever made it back. The boy Jon had knew all his life suddenly became the true Lord of Winterfell, and Jon hadn't gotten one chance to see him, not even once, since the day they parted in the courtyard. Not even one glimpse of Robb being a Lord. _And being a King._ A low voice appeared in his head. _Or being a war commander and a fierce fighter on the battlefield._

Jon shut his eyes.

The conversation they had in the yard was their last words, the embrace they shared was their last touch, and Robb's rear gradually vanished into the crowd was the last scene he saw before he jumped on his horse and set out with his uncle.

He never knew what was in Robb's mind when he told that redhead he was leaving for the Wall next morning. When Robb knocked his door that night after the welcoming feast laid for King Robert was finished, he opened the door, but didn’t let him in. Instead, he told Robb he was packing for leaving.

Robb was quiet and stiff at first, Jon thought he was going to get angry or what, but after a moment, Robb softened his expression and stiffness, and gave him his blessing.

Would I stay if he asked? Would I? Jon didn't know the answer then, and he still didn't know the answer now.

But it didn't matter at all, because Robb didn't ask him to stay. He let him leave without protest.

Jon ignored the twisting feeling in his stomach and kept reading the letter. 

 

 

> _I asked the brothers of Night's Watch who came along with Tyrion Lannister about you. They said you're doing quite well, have made some friends, and some of your peers are looking for your sword training. You're always a good person, Jon, always. There may not be so many people who admires you and counts on you in Winterfell, but you can and you will get what you deserve long time ago on the Wall, I know you will._  
>  _I am so sorry I couldn't do more for you back the time you were still here. It troubles me much more than you can imagine, even in my dream. I hope you're happy there._

That’s Robb. Jon's eyes became misty. That’s the boy he has been jealous of for so long yet never could he hate. The boy with all the kindness, honor, and love. The only companion he had in his early years in Winterfell, who shared his loneliest days and warmed his heart.

Even when all the burdens suddenly fell to the inexperienced pair of shoulders, Robb still concerned about him.

 _Impetuous,_ the low voice speak again, and Jon couldn’t even argue with it. Impetuous, wasn’t he? If he were not a boy of impulse, he would not leave Winterfell so easily, not when Bran lying unconsciously on the bed and half of his family were not at home. If he didn’t only focus on his own business but also on Robb’s, he would see that Lady Stark wasn’t in her best condition, which means Robb would be the only person in charge of the House, and of the North. Robb had to take care of Rickon as well; or even Lady Stark, if she insisted on sitting beside Bran’s bed without eating and sleeping. Yet none of these was seen by him when he bade farewell to Robb.

How was it like to be left behind? Jon thought quietly. Even if Robb didn’t blame him, he blamed himself. He had always been the first person Robb went for advice or help, and he was gone, too. He could choose to stay, but he didn’t. He understood not everything in life had a correct answer, and this was one of those. He made his choice, nobody could say it was wrong, but the remorse was so huge, so unbearable. For countless times when he heard the news from South, the news of the war Robb involved in, that regret gnawing at his heart, making him feel suffocated.

Just like how he felt now.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya I'm finally back! Thank you for the comments and kudos!  
> The exam went quite well, my new life is gonna begin in September! I want to say I'm looking forward to it, but actually I wish the summer vacation could last forever XD  
> Anyway, thanks for reading and wish you a good day <3


End file.
